


All Light, All Fire

by Esteliel



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, LOTRO, M/M, MMORPG, Misfits AU, Mutual Non-Con, Non-Consensual, Rape, lightning made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/pseuds/Esteliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unusual storm in the Misty Mountains has dire consequences for Eluivor and Vereyar. </p><p>A Misfits AU, where Vereyar winds up with Kelly's power, and Eluivor with Alisha's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Light, All Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AeonDelirium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonDelirium/gifts).



> This is why people shouldn't give me ideas like Misfits AUs. I actually go and write them, although they make no sense whatsoever given Tolkien or LOTRO canon. Oh well. Any excuse to make Eluivor miserable, he suffers too well! Also, Vereyar is not mine, and this is in no way connected to their canon storyline. I am very sorry, Vereyar. I wouldn't do this if I didn't admire your canon self so much. <3

The Hithaeglir were shrouded in mist, true to their name. He could see Vereyar's broad back, the large axe strapped to his back, waving in and out of the mist, so that he hurried to keep up with him. He was glad now that they had left the horses in the clearing at the foot of the mountains where they had spent the night. Vereyar intended to search one more path that led down from the mountain for traces of his criminal, and the footing would have proved too treacherous for the horses, he had claimed. Eluivor, who was still feeling strangely unsettled about his near-death on Caradhras had silently wished that they could have just followed the meandering path on horseback, but now they had come to fields of small rocks that skittered and slid down the mountainside with every careful step they made. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Vereyar had been right – as always. They could not have crossed this sloping field of scree with their horses, and if Vereyar's criminal had continued east, they could not afford injury to their horses.

“Hurry,” Vereyar snapped when Eluivor hesitated for a moment to look back at where they had come from. A wind had sprung up, blowing the mist away so that he could see trees beneath them appearing and vanishing again, as if a giant hand were pulling away a veil of white. “Hurry,” Vereyar repeated, his gaze softening just a little when Eluivor bit back a reply and hastened to where Vereyar had stopped.

“A storm is coming in,” Vereyar said, his brow creased with worry. The sight was rare enough that Eluivor looked around in sudden alarm, taking in the eerie quiet and the way the sky above them had darkened all of a sudden, the mist dispersed so that they could see the rapidly gathering clouds above.

“Will it be safe to stay here during a storm?” Eluivor asked as he studied the field of loose stones. “What if–”

“Hurry!” Vereyar bit and grabbed his arm, pulling with enough force that Eluivor almost lost his footing. His lips parted for an angry retort. There might be a storm coming in, but this was still no reason to treat him like a stupid _boy_ , he was a man used to leading others, after all, did Vereyar think there were no storms in the Greenwood?

His thoughts broke off and he stared with wide eyes as a rapidly growing cloud of darkness gathered above them, swirling so that for a moment he had the hysterical thought of one of the Valar stirring the sky with a finger, gathering more and more of the dark clouds until they bulged downwards, and–

“Down!” Vereyar screamed, panic in his voice for the very first time. Eluivor felt the pain as his knees hit the sharp, unforgiving stones that littered the ground, but his head was raised, staring with breathless disbelief at the sky above them, the wrathful clouds bulging down, and then a crack so loud that it made his entire body shudder, the air tasting like blood and fear and the end of all things as lightning arched down towards them with the lethal beauty of a sharp blade.

For a heartbeat, he was all light, all fire, taut and stretched as if his body tried to follow where his mind was scattered into a million pieces by the impact, and then–

He groaned. The sound was alien, almost as if it hurt to _hear_. Everything was black, and he was reminded with a dull, aching finality of his physicality by the way every bone, every muscle, every nerve _hurt_. He felt raw and opened, as if something had torn through him and then burnt out of him, leaving all of his nerves exposed and chafed in a way he had never experienced before.

He opened his eyes slowly, groaning again at the way even his eyelids were sore. It took a long moment to focus, his eyes tearing up in protest at being forced to _see_ after– whatever this had been. Had they truly been hit by lightning? That was impossible. How could they have survived such a thing? They had survived – hadn't they? Vereyar still lived?

Hesitantly his hand inched forward, but then Vereyar's eyes opened and he sat up with a groan of his own.

“We both live,” he said, and there was a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “Praise the Valar for it. It is a miracle indeed.”

Eluivor nodded, not quite trusting his raw throat enough to speak when even that simple motion made his head ache.

Vereyar grimaced slightly as he pushed himself up, muscles straining with the simple exertion of keeping himself upright. “No need to keep searching,” he said at last, his voice almost calm. “We should return for the night. If that storm caught him, I doubt he will move on today.”

Eluivor tried to stand as well, swaying for a moment as everything spun before his eyes. He felt absurdly proud when he managed to remain standing without throwing up, but when he glanced at Vereyar, all it gained him was an impatient look.

“Hurry,” Vereyar said again, although there was a hint of tiredness in his voice now. “These mountains are treacherous. We do not want to get caught in another storm.”

Eluivor nodded again, then turned to trudge slowly after Vereyar, too exhausted and in pain to even dare to complain at Vereyar's rudeness. It had not been his idea after all to brave the mountains without their horses. And if that criminal had taken refuge on this mountain, then chances were that the storm had driven him out of his own hiding place. Vereyar almost made it sound like Eluivor slowed them down, but what did he expect? Not everyone could be an impossibly broad-shouldered, axe-wielding, inexhaustible giant of a man. And considering that they had just been hit by lightning, the simple fact that he was able to follow Vereyar down that mountainside was quite certainly a heroic feat in itself already.

Vereyar stopped to turn towards him, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Once we make it back to our camp, you can rest. Boil some tea for us. I will take care of the hunting.”

A part of him thought that he should protest, but his limbs were trembling with exhaustion – as they had every right to, considering that they had just been hit by lightning, he told himself. Still, why did he feel like such a failure then when he looked at Vereyar?

He kept following him, simply concentrating on step after step, until they finally left the stony slope behind and continued downwards on a small, muddy path littered with crooked roots and fallen branches. Eluivor bit back a curse when he nearly tripped over a root, the impact of it sending a shudder of pain through his over-sensitive body. _I never should have followed him up this cursed mountain. We should have known it would try something else to detain us! And the weather was bad all day, that mist did not look natural. Anyone would have known that it is no weather to go crawl across a slope of sharp stones with nothing to shield you from a storm! And if–_

Vereyar's teeth ground audibly together. “Will you just stop complaining?”

Eluivor stopped glaring at the offending root to look up with hurt in his eyes. “I wasn't!” _What is he mad about now? There truly is no pleasing him! I could break my leg following him down this muddy excuse of a path, and do you hear me complain? No. I shut up and follow, like a good soldier, but he still treats me like a child playing at war when he has never even set foot in the Greenwood to see with his own eyes how our warriors–_

Vereyar exhaled. “Just be silent!” he snapped. “There are all sorts of dangers in these mountains.”

Eluivor pressed his lips together to keep back another retort as Vereyar continued down the path even faster than before. The roots grew more numerable, and the mud deeper, and although he tried his best to follow in Vereyar's footsteps as he hastened after him, it did not take long until he lost his footing. With a muffled yell he reached out wildly to grab at one of the half-dead trees spreading their roots across the path, but to no avail – it was Vereyar who stopped his fall, predictably, and for a moment Eluivor was too grateful to even feel resentment at the admonishment that was sure to follow.

There was one heartbeat of silence as Vereyar's strong body arched into him as if lightning had hit him once more. Vereyar's fingers tightened around his wrist until they forced a sound of pain from him, and when he looked up in shock at his friend's unusual behaviour, he found that Vereyar's eyes had darkened, his lips parted as he stared at him with a frightening intensity.

“I want to rip off your armour and make you scream Eru's name,” he growled, and Eluivor's eyes widened as he wondered for one long moment whether the impact of the lightning had driven him insane. There was no way this could be happening. Vereyar would never say such a thing...

Then Vereyar's hands reached out for the buckles that held his armour closed, and although Eluivor was still too shocked to even understand what was going on, he tried to push him back, skidding in the mud once more until he lost his footing again.

This time, he ended up on his back in the mud, dazed from the impact. He blinked a few times as he found Vereyar standing above him with a strange expression on his face.

“That is the second time, Eluivor. You need rest. No more complaints now,” he stated, and Eluivor swallowed as he watched him warily. Had he only imagined what had just happened?

“What... what did you just say?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft. His heart was still beating so fast in his chest that it almost drowned out Vereyar's answer with every loud beat.

“You need rest,” Vereyar repeated, brows drawn together as he studied him. “Did you hit your head? You have been acting strange all day. No more excuses and complaints. I will carry you down this mountain if I have to, but I would prefer not to. We lost too much time as it is.”

“No, the... what you said about my armour...” Eluivor's voice trailed off as he forced himself to stand at the threat. “And I am well. I can walk.”

“I said nothing about your armour. You are imagining things. Try to keep up now.” Although Vereyar's voice was gruff, Eluivor could see a hint of concern in his eyes as he finally stepped aside, and that, strangely enough, was more reassuring than all of his words. _Vereyar would never attack me. I must have hit my head on those stones harder than I thought..._

He watched the ground carefully this time as he descended. Vereyar was walking noticeably slower now, and though Eluivor flushed at the indignity, he could not help being grateful for it. His head did hurt – and so did the rest of his body. He tried to cheer himself up with thoughts of a fire and roasted grouse, hoping that Vereyar would decide that it was not necessary to keep watch through the night, and then he just focused on step after step through the mud that sucked on his boots, exhaustion making his limbs so heavy that he could think of nothing except for the next safe spot to set his foot down.

#

Eluivor clutched the mug gratefully. He had been too tired to even pretend to argue with Vereyar when the man had told him in no uncertain terms to sit and rest while he prepared a tea of willow bark. Now gratefulness mixed with shame as the dull ache in his head slowly receded. No grouse – but Vereyar had returned with two rabbits which were now cooking in a pot over the fire with a handful of barley and wild onions. He should not have allowed Vereyar to do all the work. Vereyar had to be just as exhausted as he was – the lightning had hit both of them, after all. No wonder Vereyar sometimes treated him with something almost approaching condescension, when he could not even–

“I told you. You needed rest. No more complaints,” Vereyar interrupted his thoughts, slowly shaking his head. He filled a wooden bowl with stew, then held it out to Eluivor. “There is no shame in admitting that–”

He stopped talking when Eluivor reached out to take the bowl, their fingers meeting for an instant. It was as if lightning ran through Vereyar once more as his body arched, his eyes growing dark and wild. The bowl dropped from Eluivor's hands, and then Vereyar was on top of him, a wild, mad creature, calloused fingers scrambling at his buckles, finally tearing the leather in his impatience while his other hand clutched Eluivor's wrist.

“Vereyar! What are you doing?” Eluivor gasped, wincing at the hysteria in his voice. He tried to pull his hand out of Vereyar's grasp, but it was impossible – Vereyar's grip was brutal, fingers clenching around him so hard that he could feel the bruises forming, and then a buckle gave, this armour flung to the side neglectfully as Vereyar's hand tore the soft, blue linen of the shirt he wore beneath. "M-my wife embroidered that!" he said with momentary outrage before Vereyar's hand moved to rip open the lacing of his breeches with impossible strength.

"I want to make you beg Eru for release," Vereyar groaned above him, eyes so wide and dark with inhuman need that Eluivor shuddered with sudden, helpless fear. This was no dream. This could not be a dream, not when it hurt where Vereyar's fingers clenched around his wrist like a vice, not when he could feel Vereyar's chainmail scrape across his bare skin. "I want to fuck you until you plead!"

Eluivor groaned, eyes filling his tears from the pain as he struggled against Vereyar's relentless grip. But Vereyar was strong, his body heavy atop him, and no matter how he pushed against his chest, Vereyar did not move.

"Vereyar, please!" he said at last, his voice weak, shrill with fear as he looked into the eyes of the man he had come to love and admire as a dear companion, finding nothing he recognized in them but brutal need. "Please! You are under a spell!"

Instead of an answer, Vereyar opened the buckles of his own armour with frightening efficiency, stripping himself while he held Eluivor pressed into the ground with his weight.

"Vereyar!" Eluivor cried, truly afraid now when Vereyar simply forced him to turn around. There was no way to resist, not when Vereyar was so heavy, so strong, and for the first time his admiration of Vereyar's warrior's build turned into a fierce panic instead when he tried to struggle but could not even move more than his arms.

A moan of frightened disbelief escaped him when he felt Vereyar press against his thigh, hard and hot. How could he be aroused by this? How could he do this to him? This was wrong, this could not possibly be happening to him, and as his fingers scrambled, weak and inefficient as all they could grasp was blades of grass, the moist soil beneath, Vereyar's fingers spread against his back, holding him mercilessly down while his knees spread his legs open.

There was no warning but a soft exhalation of hot breath against his nape that made him shiver, and then a cry tore from his throat as Vereyar forced himself inside, rough and careless and panting against his back like a wild beast. For a moment, Eluivor's vision grew hazy, spots of red and black dancing before his eyes as his body fought against the pain and the humiliating intrusion. But there was no fighting Vereyar, who pulled out only to thrust back in with even greater force, teeth biting down on his shoulder until Eluivor sobbed and stopped fighting, panting through the pain. Vereyar used him like a mad, wild animal, drawing moans and sobs from him with every thrust until finally Eluivor stopped pleading, though another hard thrust forced Vereyar's name from him once more. He shuddered, muscles tightening when there was a sudden, fierce pleasure, crying as much in denial of it as in pain. Vereyar's nails raked down his sides, raising hot, red welts that wept blood.

"Please!" Eluivor begged helplessly between moans that rang shamefully loud in his ears. It still hurt, but a part of his body was now anticipating every thrust, something in his belly quivering with sick delight, and when Vereyar pulled him up to position him on his knees, he remained in the position obediently, shuddering with fear and shame when Vereyar forced himself inside once more with a groan of inhuman need.

Vereyar's hand clenched in his hair, pressing his face mercilessly to the damp ground. "I want to hear you beg for it, boy!" he groaned, and Eluivor sobbed, his body arching into him at the next hard thrust that made terrible, pleasurable heat spread inside himself.

"Vereyar... Vereyar, please," he sobbed into the grass, squeezing his eyes shut as he shuddered and arched. Vereyar's hand was twisted so tightly in his hair that it hurt, and then there was another punishing bite, teeth marking his shoulder with the cruelty of a starved wolf as Vereyar's thrusts increased in force until Eluivor's hips felt bruised and battered. He came with a miserable cry, shame washing through him as he could feel Vereyar's release inside him, hot and slick and easing the ache somewhat as Vereyar moved against with him feebler, shallow thrusts.

He swallowed against the rising sickness as Vereyar's grip on him did not relent, his face still pressed to the ground. "Vereyar," he pleaded again, his voice small and full of tears. He did not struggle against the grip on his hair, the cruel fingers that clenched around his hip, breathing shallowly as he felt Vereyar pull out at last. "Let me go. Please, Vereyar. Please, you are my friend..."

Vereyar's body covered him as he leaned forward, and Eluivor froze when he was pulled to his hands and knees, Vereyar's mouth nuzzling at his hair. "I want to fuck you until you stop complaining," the warrior growled. "All that complaining, boy. I just want you to shut up, want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours until your throat is too sore for more of your whining."

Eluivor groaned when he felt Vereyar start to harden once more at his words. His fingers clenched around clumps of grass when Vereyar pulled him back forcefully to meet his hips, and a ragged moan escaped him when Vereyar slid back inside, impossibly hard once more. He did not even plead this time, his head hanging down as he simply tried to endure, whimpering every now and then when Vereyar's hands clenched around him, nails leaving deep, red bruises as he was pulled back to meet his thrusts.

It still hurt, but the slickness of Vereyar's seed inside him eased some of the ache, and when he shifted in discomfort, Vereyar groaned in approval. Once more, heat began to spread inside him, a shameful, poisonous pleasure that made him want to weep with shame at the same time as he wanted to arch his back and spread his legs and beg for more, anything, anything at all...

Again Vereyar's nails scoured his back as found his release a second time, gasping something Eluivor did not understand, though he closed his eyes in relief when Vereyar drew back at last. He was still crying silently, trembling as he crouched in the grass, pain and betrayal and deep shame warring within him. A part of him realized that this might be his only chance to flee, but he was frozen with horror and self-disgust, his muscles clenched so tightly that it took all his strength to turn when the silence lasted a moment too long.

Vereyar – the maddened creature Vereyar had turned into, the possessed demon, he tried to correct himself, but all his heart could beat fearfully was _Vereyar, Vereyar, my friend, my saviour, Vereyar, the monster, please don't hurt me again, please, please don't –_ was staring at him, face blank. Eluivor flinched as he met his eyes. The madness was gone, but instead, there was a terrible coldness as Vereyar simply looked at him.

Eluivor wanted to curl up, sick with shame at the way Vereyar's gaze made him feel. Vereyar had to see every bruise, every bite, every welt his own nails had left, the pools of seed glistening on his thighs, his stomach, the way – _oh, Eru!_ – the way he was still hard...

“What have you _done_?” Vereyar at last bit out, such abhorrence in his voice that Eluivor flinched back. He swallowed his tears, forcing himself to sit up despite the pain that forced another sound of discomfort from him.

Vereyar took a step towards him, and Eluivor helplessly raised a hand – whether to ward him off or to plead for mercy from one who had not shown mercy before, he did not even know. All he knew was that he could not bear it again, not Vereyar, not the only man he had admired since he left his home, that shame of being helpless, the pain and the terror of being overcome, the dishonour and terrible pleasure of his surrender...

“What did you _do_ to me?” Vereyar backed away with horror in his voice, and Eluivor shook his head as he trembled. He had done nothing! Nothing at all, he had no idea what had turned Vereyar from the friend he loved and trusted like no other into a cruel stranger, mad with terrible lusts.

“I... I didn't...” he gasped, barely able to talk around the despair that seemed to choke him. Vereyar took another step back, the perfectly calm mask of his face shattered for once with a mixture of rage and disgust.

“I did not do anything. I gave you the stew, that is all I remember,” Vereyar said, his eyes wild so that for a moment, Eluivor feared the madness was returning. “You did this.” He gestured at Eluivor, for once at a loss for words to describe the vision of sinful depravity he presented.

Eluivor shook his head again, swallowing the rising shame as he remembered that moment when he had begged, when he had only wanted it to go on, and suddenly Vereyar's face turned stony with disgust.

“You _wanted_ it?” he asked with cold fury. “You – in Eru's name, what did you _do_ to me?”

“I did nothing!” Eluivor cried, forcing himself to stand despite his trembling legs. “I swear, you simply–”

“I just heard you admit it!” Vereyar's face was frozen, and Eluivor shuddered when a part of him realized where he had seen that expression before. Vereyar looked at him the way he had looked at the filth that had filled the streets and inns of Bree, and the sharp pain that squeezed around his heart made it impossible to breath for a moment. “You said you wanted me to...” Vereyar fell silent, then turned his head sharply away, as if he could not bear to look at the marks he had left on Eluivor's body.

“Look at you,” he said with quiet fury after a moment. “Worse than any of the whores that propositioned me in Bree, filthy and...” He stopped for a moment as if trying not to retch. “Have the decency to clean yourself, at least!”

Eluivor shook his head again, fighting tears as he tried to search for the right words – but there were no words for this, no words to explain what Vereyar had done.

“I didn't – you told me,” he said at last, his voice breathless and soft with despair, “you told me you wanted to f-fuck me until I plead, fuck my pretty mouth...” He almost stumbled over the words, shaking with shame at pronouncing sentences he had never uttered before. Vereyar audibly ground his teeth.

“Do not ever dare to utter such lies again,” he warned, his voice taut with a terrible, cold anger. “Do not – do not count on the friendship there once was between us. I will not listen to such filth, not even from you.” He turned away, although Eluivor could see that his fingers were trembling slightly, and bent to take up his pack of supplies.

“Where are you going?” Eluivor asked softly when Vereyar strode towards his horse. He fastened the pack to the saddle once more, then strapped his axe to his back.

“Onward.” For one short moment, he hesitated, and Eluivor's heart clenched again with sudden pain at the thought of losing his only friend in these lands. Then he remembered how those hands had felt clenching around his hips, the pain as Vereyar forced himself inside so roughly, and Vereyar's face shuttered.

“Do not follow me,” he warned curtly as he mounted his horse. “This is where our friendship ends.”

“Vereyar!” There was no response to his plea, and he shivered as he watched Vereyar ride off, leaving him alone and cold and bruised as he fell to his knees in the damp grass to weep with shame and useless regret.


End file.
